


Home

by kcstories



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Ealdor, Merlin decides to disappear, but Arthur sets out to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. Written for fun, not profit.  
> Written for Day 10 of 2008's Merlinadvent at LJ.   
> Warnings: AU-ish, a bit of angst and fluff.

Shivering, Arthur makes his way through the snow, hacking tough twigs and thick, thorny branches aside as he goes. If only he'd known beforehand that he'd be undertaking a large part of this trek on foot, he'd have worn warmer clothing and brought along an axe. The shrubbery is so stubborn in its refusal to budge, one might think it were bewitched. 

Arthur sneers as a sudden realisation hits him. _It probably is. _

In hindsight, he sorely regrets finding out Merlin's secret. Even more, he laments his decision to mention it to him. 

Arthur expected many things from that confrontation: a reluctant, long-overdue confession perhaps, or a heated argument, or possibly even a display of flat-out denial for as long as Merlin could keep up the pretence. 

Arthur never imagined his servant—no, his friend—would run, however, not from him. _Does he really believe I'm exactly the same as my father? Does he truly consider me capable of harming him, simply because he...? _

He finally reaches the cottage, but at first sight, his journey has been pointless. The windows are dark, and there doesn't seem to be a soul inside. 

Arthur's not that easily fooled, though. He's certain it can't be much of a challenge for a powerful sorcerer to make it look like no one's home. 

Merlin must be powerful, Arthur decides. He deceived the entire court with that 'bumbling idiot' act of his. Of course, it wasn't entirely an act; the fellow is clumsy and rather slow on many levels, no one can fake that, and he did have a very valid reason for tricking people, too. 

When Arthur stops to think about it, Merlin didn't have much choice in the matter, really. 

Magic is strictly forbidden—outlawed—and anyone caught practising it will be subjected to severe punishment: death by hanging, or worse. 

Arthur tries not to ponder on that particular possibility. It makes his blood run cold, chills him to the bone, although he's already freezing. In his whole life, he has never felt such cold before, inside or out. 

A part of him is still reeling from the events back in Ealdor, too. 

Merlin's home village was the first place Arthur decided to look. If anyone knew where Merlin was, it would have to be his mother. 

To Arthur's surprise, however, the woman blatantly refused to reveal her son's whereabouts, initially. She was frightened, and she clearly didn't trust him, not even after everything that had happened the last time he'd been there. 

Never before, had Arthur been so ashamed to be his father's son. 

"I promise I won't hurt him, Madam," he insisted, realising to his immense chagrin that he was actually pleading, and with a commoner, no less. "I just... really have to find him." 

"Why?" she asked, sounding extremely suspicious. "What do you want with our Merlin?" 

"I have to find him because…" Arthur swallowed not only the lump in his throat, but a large chunk of pride as well, and finally said, "I love him." 

He walks to the front door, and knocks loudly, twice. 

There is no answer. Yet Arthur can sense that Merlin is hiding in there; he can practically feel his presence. 

Besides, Merlin's mother couldn't possibly have sent him on a wild goose chase, not after hearing an admission like that. 

"Don't make me break down this door, Merlin," Arthur says in the most authoritative tone he can manage. He's bone-tired, thirsty and freezing. He can't remember the last time he sat down for a proper meal, either. 

He raises his hand to knock again and just then, the door opens silently. 

The room inside is bathed in light, just like Arthur expected. The fireplace is lit, there are burning candles in various places, and the table is set for one. The food laid out upon it looks fit for a king. Arthur smirks. Sorcerers on the run clearly know how to live. 

"Er?" Standing in the middle of the room, wringing his hands uncertainly, is Merlin. "I-I can defend myself, you know, Arthur," he says, "and I won't hesitate to... to do so if I must." He doesn't sound even remotely convincing. He doesn't look like he's any kind of threat to anyone, either. 

Arthur knows better. Perhaps, somewhere deep down inside, he has always known. There was always something unusual about Merlin, something unique, or Arthur wouldn't have felt himself so strongly drawn to him right from the very start, wanting Merlin nearby even when the man was being clumsy, stubborn or simply a general pain. 

"I'm not here to fight with you," Arthur replies sincerely. He carefully steps forward, into the welcoming warmth of the cottage. He doesn't jump when, behind him, the door suddenly closes with a loud bang. He's not scared, not in the traditional sense of the word. Merlin would never hurt him. Arthur would bet his life on that. Perhaps he already is; perhaps that's exactly what he's been doing all along. 

"Then why did you come?" Merlin asks. He keeps his expression carefully blank, but a glimmer of hope shines through regardless. 

"I wanted to"—Arthur puts down his sword and steps closer until he's standing right front of him—"ask you to come home with me, Merlin." 

"Home?" Merlin's eyes widen. 

"To Camelot." 

"But the king..." Merlin begins. 

All of a sudden, it occurs to Arthur how close they're standing. What a mess he must look, too. Ignoring the loud thumping of his heart as best as he can, he says evenly, "What about him?" 

"Once Uther finds out about my...." 

"Magic?" 

Merlin bites his bottom lip and nods. 

"Well, I wasn't planning on telling him," Arthur states simply. "Doing so would be ill-advised, in my opinion." 

Merlin's eyes grow even wider than before. "Oh?" 

"Your.... skill... is not relevant. You're not dangerous." 

Merlin frowns. 

"Not to the kingdom, at any rate." 

For a few silent moments, Merlin lets that information sink in. "So," he then says, hesitantly. "You'd help keep my secret?" 

Arthur nods. "Without question." 

"B-But why would you even do that?" 

Arthur almost laughs out loud, but decides against it when he notices the anxious expression on Merlin's face. "Isn't it obvious, you moron?" 

Merlin's only response is a blank stare. 

Arthur shakes his head, places his hands on Merlin's shoulders, and leans just that little bit closer. "I could easily find myself another servant," he says, "and I daresay, a more competent one, at that, but I could never hope for a better, more loyal..." He pauses; 'friend' wouldn't quite cover it. "Companion," he finishes and before Merlin can say anything to that, or make another misplaced joke and ruin the moment as he tends to do, Arthur kisses him on the lips. 

When they break apart again, after what seems like ages, Arthur asks him again. "Come home with me?" 

Merlin smiles. There can be only one answer to that, and it's fast drowned in another kiss. 

_"Yes." _


End file.
